


The Only Truth That Sticks

by samasim



Series: Providence [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gavin's a Mean Girl, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson and Connor Live Together, Hank swears a lot but come on what did you expect, Other, Protective Hank Anderson, This story isn't about him but I wasn't gonna pass up on mentioning him, When you know your robo-son is a competent badass but things can happen, Worried Parent Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samasim/pseuds/samasim
Summary: In the wake of the Android Revolution, biocomponents and android parts become scarce, and a dangerous black market arises.Hank and Connor are assigned to the android trafficking cases to track down and stop their alarming escalation. Laws are slow to change, androids do not feel safe, and Cyberlife still retains full control over the technology and supply. Biocomponents for rare android models, like the RK line, are nearly non-existent.People are desperate. Connor is relentless. Hank is not okay. Things go to hell.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor
Series: Providence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2084328
Comments: 45
Kudos: 149





	The Only Truth That Sticks

_“I thought I had the world figured out.._

_then I saw the world."_

_-Anonymous_

_._

_._

_._

  
  


**______________**

“The fuck, Jeffrey?! What do you mean I’m _suspended_?”

It took every shred of Fowler’s willpower to stop himself from hurling Hank’s heavy disciplinary file across the office. He took a deep breath, and reminded himself for the upteenth time that month to not let himself be dragged into yet another shouting match. 

Hank had both hands down flat on his desk, seething, blue eyes blazing with indignation. His hair fell forward to hang around his face, his hunched shoulders making him look like an angry pitbull.

“I. Am. Trying. To _protect_ you, Hank.” Fowler gritted with forced calm. “For the love of all that is holy - do me this one goddamn favor and don’t dig this hole any deeper. I’m sticking my neck out there for you and frankly, I’m running out of reasons to give them!”

“What changed?” shouted the lieutenant. “You know me and you know how I work! Since when does self-defense instigate misconduct hearings?”

“Since the Commander decided Collins and Reed’s accounts of what they saw when they arrived at the scene isn’t something he’d like anywhere near the public. I fought for you in there like a maniac. The only reason this is not escalating any further is because of your previous work, Hank, and because I’m ‘damn soft and a nepotist’ according to Gavin.” 

“Reed can think what he wants - nothing changes the fact that me and Connor were fighting for our lives in that shithole!”

“Hank. You almost decapitated a man-”

“ _I wasn’t gonna let him-_ ” gritted Hank furiously.

“-with. Your. Police badge.” cut in Fowler, voice rising. “Your _police badge_ , Hank..? How was I supposed to respond to that? I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t have your gun on you then - you'd have emptied the whole round into the guy’s head.

“Both of us should be grateful the Commander and Deputy Chief are too focused on their upcoming promotions to take drastic measures,” he went on. “This could’ve ended very badly, Hank.”

The lieutenant stood there for a moment, mouth open in speechless indignation Fowler rarely saw on his old friend’s face. 

“Listen, Hank.” he started again, more calmly. He turned a tired glance to the bullpen beyond his office. He could see several of the new recruits working at their stations. Gavin was speaking to Chris in the hall by the kitchen. Tina was bent over a stack of reports, her enormous coffee in hand as always. 

The only person who was just standing there by his desk, barely doing anything except fidget with files and openly look at them through the triple-glazed glass, was Connor. 

Nearly a year the android had been with them on the force, and Fowler still found Connor’s face oddly disarming. It was ridiculous. He should not be susceptible to this; Hank maybe, but not him. 

Hank had always been the more emotional of the two of them, ever since their college days. Jeffrey had always been the one who called the ugly shots no one wanted to, and Hank had always been the one for human connections and gut instinct. That is, back when he used to open himself to others.

Hank followed his gaze, and when Fowler turned to look at him again, he noticed the angry creases across the lieutenant’s forehead had smoothed ever so slightly. 

Hindsight, as they say, is twenty twenty, and everyone knows doctors should not operate on their children. Over the past few months, Fowler had wondered time and again if he should have split up Hank and Connor sooner, made them work in different teams. 

Well, it was too late for that now.

“Look. You know where I stand from all this. I know you did what you had to do, and I damn well pulled every card I had to get you out of this mess with only a 21-day suspension and psychiatric evaluation sessions twice a week. Truth is, I’m pissed at the whole situation and I wasn't about to lose one of my best on the team. Not with the current events.

“Hank, I haven’t seen this much fire in you for years and you don’t understand how goddamn fucking _happy_ it makes me,” he went on. “I missed this Hank, the one I’ve known since we were nineteen, and I never thought I’d be the one in a position to tell you to calm the fuck down and reign it in, but you have to. For the department’s sake. For your own sake, and for Connor.”

Taking advantage of Hank’s silence and pensive expression, he continued. “You two are my best men in the Android Trafficking Unit, and no one in the whole country’s doing work like you. I can't lose that. The Major and Lt. Colonol don't want to lose that, either. But neither the COP nor the public want to hear about a cop nearly tearing someone’s artery out - they want to know that people and androids can walk the streets safely again.”

Hank looked out through the office glass again. “I hate this,” he said, and Fowler heard the edge of another emotion Hank had been trying to keep out of their conversation. “Damn it, three weeks is _too_ long, Jeffrey. I don't - I don't trust anyone with Connor. Not in _this_ , not with what I’ve seen.”

“I know,” said Fowler in genuine regret. “If there’s anything else I could’ve done, I would’ve. You should talk to Conner, get him to take the time off, too. He’s within his right to-”

“He won’t,” said Hank. “He’s too damn deep in his head taking down these traffickers. Every time we get a new case, every time another android goes missing, it gets to him. He won’t slow down. He’ll never let until it’s over.”

“The more I hear, the more I find his name fitting,” the captain said in a weak attempt to lighten the mood. Unsurprisingly, the joke landed dead. “I can talk to him if you want.”

“Won’t make a difference,” said Hank shortly, already turning towards the door. “Stubborn bastard will be the end of me. Anything else? I wanna go home.”

“Try to talk to him, Hank,” insisted Fowler. “He listens to you.”

Hank turned to give him a look of utter incredulity, and Fowler found himself chuckling a half-apology. He could see the cuss hanging on the edge of his friend’s lips, but in the end Hank just turned and left the office.

Connor was promptly in front of the lieutenant. “What's the verdict?” he asked apprehensively.

“A’hm fucking suspended,” said Hank sourly, brushing past his partner as he ambled towards his desk and sank heavily into the chair. “Three weeks, no way around it.”

“..This is my fault,” said Connor. Hank turned to look at him incredulously. “I’m sorry, Hank. If I hadn’t been incapacitated-”

“Do you intentionally say things like this to send me to an early grave? This bullshit we’re dealing with, those trafficking mafias - they’re remorseless. I’d do it again if I had to. I’ve seen shitty people do shitty things for drugs when I was on the Red Ice Unit, but this..I don’t know how these people can live with themselves.”

The regretful look did not leave his android partner’s face even as he looked away, and Hank, cursing his softening heart, and those goddamn sweet goofy eyes, leaned forward and placed his hand behind Connor’s neck. “Come on, let’s get outta here. Take the files.”

“Leavin’ already?” said a familiar voice, and Hank swore irritably, fighting the urge to gnash his teeth. He turned to see Gavin stroll by their desks, a little too leisurely. “I gotta admit, I’m really disappointed you’re taking this so quietly, Hank. I thought there’d be fireworks but I didn’t even hear you slammin’ a symphony on the captain’s desk. Must be gettin’ old, huh? Or maybe you only feel like doing something if-”

“Shut your fucking hole, Gavin, or it’ll be my badge in _your_ neck next,” growled the lieutenant, irate. Throwing his jacket onto his shoulder, screens in hand, he and Connor left the man standing there, grin still on his face.

“In my defense!” he called to Hank’s retreating back. “I told them it was badass as hell.”

  
  


**______________**

  
  


_“...the spokesperson for Cyberlife, Briar Haul, has confirmed that the long-awaited YK600 android children will be ready for adoption by the fifteenth of this month, five weeks before Christmas, in response to great demand by couples who wish to become parents this year. In compliance with the ruling of the Supreme Court, all YK600 models are designed and equipped with the most cross-compatible biocomponents and parts Cyberlife has produced thus far. This includes backwards-compatibility with all YK500 models. Spare parts will be widely available - also on November 15th - at all major Cyberlife outlets in Detroit, with the roll-out for the rest of the country estimated to take between one week and three weeks at most. This is a drastic measure to counter severe shortage in spare parts for certain models..-”_

“Assholes,” grunted Hank from the kitchen, promptly muted the channel and threw the control carelessly on the table. “Taking their sweet-ass time providing basics then having the audacity to act like they’ve single-handedly saved the world.” 

“Public opinion of them will never fully recover,” said Connor from the couch, teasing Sumo. The huge St. Bernard woofed happily, and plopped himself across the android’s chest. “Very few think they can salvage their reputation or the millions they lose daily to adhere to the new laws. I suppose I should consider this a small victory, but...”

Hank decided dinner was fine the way it was, and turned off the oven, an archaic piece of junk that miraculously still worked - and one that Connor insisted be used to heat leftovers instead of the microwave. “Greedy bastards would rather androids shut down or get fucking kidnapped and sold on the black market than provide the spares needed. It’s been a damn year and the only so-called _victory_ is people can now have android kids that won’t immediately die on them.” Grabbing the remote and a wine bottle, he dropped onto the couch next to his partner. Sumo turned towards him, lumbering like an excited bear, and began to beg for food.

It was sickening. The world was run by assholes who cared about their bottom line more than they cared about living beings, and the US government was not going to dissolve a multi-trillion dollar organization that had its fingers in every industry across the country. 

And the law was screwed, because when the lawmakers see the hole in their bank accounts get too big, they hold out for as long as possible. Politicians and businessmen have been able to push off legislation and override laws for decades. 

And the ravenous scumbags who controlled Cyberlife were some of the most powerful, most influential people in the world. 

Hank pulled up the bottle and promptly removed the cap. As expected, Connor turned to look at him, his brow furrowed. 

“You’re drinking tonight?”

He turned to meet the android's eyes determinedly. “Hell yeah, I am. I deserve a consolation prize.”

Connor did not break his gaze, but his pleasant, freckled face and affable eyes softened in that familiar way Hank had become all too familiar with, and the man looked away with a sigh. Goddamn android, using his weakness against him. 

Goddamn Cyberlife engineers, they knew exactly what they were doing when they gave him that ridiculous endearing face.

“You’re clinging to old habits,” said Connor firmly. “You don’t need to drink this bottle.”

“Lay off, I upheld my end of the bargain, didn’t I? I can have a drink tonight. Hopefully I puke at Dr. Sill’s office tomorrow or somethin’. Maybe then I won’t have to go to these useless evaluations.”

His partner decided to say nothing, and instead picked up the case folder. The topic was dropped for the time, but Hank did not miss the purse of his lips, and the slightest inconsistency in how his LED’s blue switched from its typical calm rhythm to a pulsing yellow for a moment. 

The folder was thick, composed of multiple screens spread against each other, displaying Connor’s meticulous notes and cross-references. Inside were dozens of open cases of android kidnappings, a crime that has been steeply rising over the past two months, and the android was taking to near-obsessive levels. 

He was absolutely certain there were three trafficking rings in total, but they were never able to get anything on the third one. Hundreds of pages of court rulings and laws passed in regards to the androids’ slow path towards equality were also carefully indexed inside. 

Hank took a swig of his drink. “Anything new from Markus about the RK court cases?”

As far as Hank understood - which was admittedly very little - Connor and Markus shared a few similar aspects of their base-level programming, and some of the ‘biocomponents’ that androids needed to live and function. However, Connor had explained that the androids’ leader was an early RK200 model - nearly a decade older than him, and created almost exclusively by Elijah Kamski himself. Things were quite different by the time Connor’s line was created. 

Until the events of Cyberlife Tower, Connor had not even known there were other completed Connors in existence. When he was activated and his tests were run, he had been the only one in the lab with his creators. 

_We’re prototypes, created and assembled by one_ specific _group of engineers within Cyberlife Tower, and not intended for mass public use,_ Hank remembered Connor explaining. _There would be no financial incentive for Cyberlife to manufacture spare parts for our models...it is more cost-effective to create a small set of functioning androids, an effective memory upload infrastructure, and use those until their function has been completed. That is simply the most efficient use of resources._

And Hank had thought it was screwed up and threw a fit. _Well, that plan’s gone t’ Hell,_ he had said. _They can't do that anymore. They_ **_have_ ** _to manufacture spare parts for every android out there, right!_

 _That brings up another issue._ _There must still be a few RK models in their laboratories,_ Connor had said, the possibility troubling him deeply. _I don’t think they are activated, but now that androids are recognized by the country, they should be released._

Markus had been fighting for those androids in every court possible across the country.

And Cyberlife had won each and every case.

 _The laws are serving them well. The technologies and blueprints used for RK models are all classified and their patents heavily protected,_ Connor had said. _The laws are changing too slowly._

 _Only in a world like this do courts decide a bunch of paper and copyrights are more important than people’s lives,_ Hank had said.

 _The defense always goes back to it being a matter of national security,_ Connor had said grimly. 

_Yeah, bullshit. It’s easy to do this when you’ve convinced people that every other country is conspiring against them,_ Hank had said in disgust. _What was it last time? The KGB are trying to steal our android technology or some shit?_

“No. Nothing,” answered Connor dejectedly, and Hank was pulled back to the present. “There is good progress regarding making biocomponents for the AX400 and PL600 lines readily available by the beginning of the year, but when it comes to RK..he may as well be yelling into a vacuum.” 

The man took a long swig from the bottle, as if the liquor could wash down the anger and unease rising in his gut. “I knew those Cyberlife fuckers and Congress and the White House were all screwing each other,” he said bitterly. 

They had begun looking into a new lead added to the folder that same afternoon - a certain warehouse out by the docks, not far from Hank’s house. There had been reports of unexplained noises and inconsistent activity near the recently-abandoned structure, and there was sufficient reason to suspect it may have been used at one point by one of the trafficking rings they were pursuing. Connor was scanning the report when his cell phone began to ring. 

“It’s Markus,” he said. He quickly pressed the answer button, and redirected the call to his processor. His LED shifted back to a more steady yellow. “Hello, Markus. Yes?”

Hank stopped mid-chug when the silence that followed became abnormally long. Concern quickly turned to apprehension as he watched his partner’s LED flash, then turn red. 

“Connor?”

The android didn’t answer, his expression wooden except for the distress Hank could see in his eyes and on his temple.

“..Shit. _Shit_ ,” Connor whispered, and Hank set down the bottle on the coffee table, dread rising in his gut.

“Yes..alright. Yes, I know. I know..thank you, Markus. Yes...I’ll tell him.” and the call ended.

“Tell me what?”

For a moment, Connor refused to make eye contact with Hank, and the man’s dread began to twist in his gut like a knife. “What? Talk, say something!”

“We lost another RK case."

“ _And_?”

“Cyberlife won’t release any RK models or even the blueprints from its labs. They destroyed them all,” he said in a hollow, defeated voice. “They announced it in court this morning.”

“Those fuckers. I - those _fuckers_..Connor..”

“And the mainframe for RK800 memory backup has been shut down,” he went on, becoming more distressed. “It’s...it's my fault-” 

“No, it fucking _isn't_ ,” snapped Hank. “Damn it, Connor, not this again. What mental gymnastics do you do to arrive at this dumbass conclusion? You honestly still think you could’ve infiltrated the tower again? You can’t save everyone, you're _one_ android - and you're doing more work alone than a whole squad of detectives!”

Fuck the asshole engineer that had made Connor blame himself for every damn thing that went wrong, then kill himself trying to fix it.

Getting to his feet without realizing it, Hank forced himself to take a deep breath. Sumo looked up at him and whined anxiously as if pleading with him to sit back down. 

“..Where the hell is Kamski in all this? Aren’t like half of Cyberlife’s patents his?”

“Around 65%, in fact,” said Connor instinctively. “But due to the complexity of these patents, Cyberlife as an entity legally owns the majority of them. He can’t do anything if he no longer works with them.”

“You know what,” said Hank in forced calm, splaying his palms on the kitchen table. He knew this conversation was going to come up again, and he knew that they would spend another night with him pissed and Connor dejected. He just didn't expect it to come up at the same time as this news _and_ his shitty suspension. 

“It's about time, Connor. For you to get off this case.”

Connor turned to look at him fixedly. “You know I can't do that.”

“You mean you don't want to.”

“You said it yourself, I'm the most competent detective for this mission,” said Connor. “Hank, androids are going missing every week. Everyone is scared. Biocomponents are becoming scarce and Markus has to watch people shut down every day.” The emotion in the android’s large brown eyes became so raw it was like a searing rod through Hank’s chest. He looked like he was struggling with his next words. “I can’t just leave this case for my own well-being. I..what _I_ want doesn't matter, Hank. This is bigger than me - Markus needs me, my people need me. I have to do whatever it takes to make sure androids can be safe on the streets. I owe them that much, after everything I’ve done-”

“You don't _owe_ anyone anything. You were a machine, Connor. You were following orders. For God’s sake, you _can’t_ save every android - _I_ can’t save every human - and you don’t have to go out there and get yourself killed because you don’t think you deserve to live a normal life - or as normal as this hellhole allows us to be! We got people in the precinct who do a damn good job and they’re in less danger in ATU that you are. You’re the darling of the new recruits - they’ll do as you say, so leave them to it. Get back on homicide.”

The android shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t walk away while so many people are suffering. I’m sorry, Hank..I know I’m selfish.”

“You’re not selfish for _fuck’s_ _sake_!” the lieutenant yelled. Incensed at himself for being unable to make the kid listen to him, he settled to compromise. “Connor, don't do this. At the very least - take the next three weeks off. That’s all I’m asking. Wait till I’m back so I can at least fucking stop you when you do something stupid.”

Sumo, the big traitor, turned his large body towards Connor, and pressed his flank against the android’s legs. His big, doleful eyes were fixed on Hank like a young sibling trying to defend its guilty older brother.

“Hank, I can take care of myself. I was literally built for this line of work-”

“Oh sure, pal!” was Hank’s sarcastic bite. “'Cause you've been a lesson in exemplary caution for all of us! Shit happens and you know it. Can this conversation be over or are you that hell-bent on being the end of me?”

Connor looked away, and a part of Hank knew he was selfish, knowing how his barely-contained distress was troubling the kid, filling him with guilt. 

He quickly squashed the feeling; he was not going to give in, not with his stupid selfless partner’s life at stake. Not when Hank’s been given a second chance, damn it, and the kid he’d grown to deeply care for is flaunting himself in front of gangs of ruthless android traffickers who were becoming more adept at their job every day. Hank may know next to nothing about androids, but he knew RKs were a lottery win. Connor - and Markus - were top of the line prototypes, unique androids. 

“You are a prime target,” said Hank, the words hanging heavy in the air between them. He wondered if Connor’s acute sensors could pick up his speeding heartbeat, as memories of their last trainwreck of a mission rose up again to the forefront of his mind, and adrenaline began to force his heart up to his throat. Without realizing, he was shouting again. “They’ll do anything to get their hands on you, and if they can’t get you in one piece they will kill you and sell you for _parts_. And there ain’t spares for you if you get hurt - it took us a week to replace your fucking _foot_!”

“This job was never safe.” said Connor tensely, he also losing his calm, brown eyes conflicted. Hank knew - boy, did he know - how much it upset Connor when he lost his shit. The nasty feeling of guilt rose up again, and he forced it down remorselessly. “We’ve been through a lot those past months and we’ve always watched each other's backs - not once have you ever discouraged me from doing my job!”

“You asshole. Don't you give me that. This is different, and I don't trust anyone else t-”

“You can't expect me to walk away from this case, Lieutenant. I may be deviant but that doesn't mean I'll abandon this mission.”

“Your goddamn life is more important to me than your fucking mission!” roared Hank. “God, Connor, you’re just set on getting yourself killed and leaving me to pick up whatever’s left of you!”

“You should stop drinking,” said Connor. He too had stood up. “It’s exacerbating your fears-” 

Hank's eyes flashed. “Don't you _dare_ tell me I'm talking through the bottle now,” he hissed. “You damn well know. This isn't the first time this happened. Don't fucking go alone, Connor.”

Instead of replying, Connor sat back down on the couch, taking the folder back on his knees. 

“You know this can't wait,” he said with a pained inflection to his voice, as if pleading with him to not say any more.

“That’s an _order_.”

“With all due respect, Lieutenant,” said Connor coolly. “You're suspended. I take my orders from the captain, now.”

The fucker. Hank wanted to slap him so hard.

For a wild moment, Hank wondered if this was some accursed manifestation of some overriding code that some sadist at Cyberlife had written to make the kid incapable of just backing down and prioritizing his life. Connor understood damn well Hank’s fear, and yet he still refused to ‘abandon’ his suicidal mission. 

There had been many close calls, _too many close calls_. Hank no longer trusted his gut the way he used to when he was younger, but he could not shake off the feeling that something bad was going to happen. He had been in this godforsaken job long enough to know, and the very real possibility of Connor not returning from a case and Hank not even being there was enough to make his insides roil with unbearable dread. If something happened to the kid he did not know what he would do. 

He did not think he could come back from that.

He hated his powerlessness; he had no right to tell him how to live his life. Connor was neither his child nor his property, he could not force him to obey. 

And he could not handle the thought of losing the best thing that happened to him since his son. 

Whether it was a deep-rooted parental instinct, or a desperate need for companionship after a long loneliness, or a stupid, selfish need to be accepted by someone who cared about him as genuinely and deeply as Connor did ( _are all deviants this raw with their emotions..?_ ), he found himself unable to continue. 

He cursed his vulnerability again, and his inability to take the matter with cold objectivity. How could he; he was just a fucking human being. 

How could he, when he used to be a father, and his son was the light of his eyes. After Cole died, and after he had seen the filth that the human race was capable of, Hank had truly believed - sworn - he would never love anyone again. That the gaping, bleeding wound that had been left behind by his son could never be tended to. It was destined to fester and rot, until it took his life and he could finally rest.

Then he met Connor, and if someone had told him that an android would become the most important person in his life he would have called them crazy and decked them. It only took a few days to get to know his new partner, but the kid - scarily quickly - had managed to worm his way into his life and into his heart, bringing out something he thought he had buried long ago. Months later, and the thought of something happening to Connor was an unbearable thought that was all too familiar. 

“Fuck this,” he finally said, his voice low and constricted. The fight was draining from him, and his shoulders grew heavy. His heart stubbornly obstructed his throat as the pressure behind his eyes burned with every demon that whispered gleefully in his ear. Hank picked up his bottle again, gave Sumo a soft pet, and walked to his bedroom. He felt Connor’s eyes follow him. 

“Where are you going?” 

“The fuck does it look,” snapped Hank, the words coming out weak. He had no energy in him anymore. He was tired, he was scared, alarm bells were ringing in his gut, and Connor _was not listening_. He did not think he could bring himself to say anything else without throwing a punch - or breaking the kid’s leg to stop him from going. 

He needed to put some space between them before he broke down or did something stupid he would hate himself for. Or both.

“Hank.”

“What?” his voice came out gruff against the persistent fear and anger constricting his breath. He was about to shove his bedroom door shut when he realized Connor had stood up and followed him down the small corridor.

“I’ll apply for leave.”

It took Hank a few moments to process what he heard. 

“All I ask is to scout that warehouse - I _know_ it's relevant to all this somehow,” Connor said, his hand movements mirroring his ardent tone. Ever the negotiator. He looked at the man with intense, fervent eyes. “I’ll take Chris with me so we watch each other’s backs - and I'll check the place first thing tomorrow morning when the sun comes up. We should be back at the precinct by eight, and I'll apply for leave.”

Hank grit his teeth and shook his head. Connor kept his large, pleading eyes on him. “ _Fuck_. Fuck th - damn it. Go take a look, and get your ass out of there immediately, got it? And don’t even think of searching the place alone. Tell Chris he’s to stick to you like fucking glue.”

“I’ll call him right now.”

“Your guns out at all times. Don’t split up under any circumstances.”

“Got it.”

“And if the place is being used as anything other than a communication hub like you suspect, don't stick around to find out what. Get out.”

“Got it. Thanks, Hank.”

The snake-like vice around his chest let up, but only so little, and Hank - watching his partner dial their faithful colleague’s number, felt the swell of gratitude for whatever God had seen in him that destined this kid that he’d grown terribly fond of to cross paths with _him_ of all people. 

Connor was an investigator and a cop through and through - deviancy could never change that, for both were parts of his very being. His purpose used to be to hunt deviants, and to protect humans with no regard to his life. Now fully deviant, he cared for his fellow androids, and felt a vehement, almost ferocious sense of duty and obligation towards them. 

_And guilt_. Hank’s brain supplied him helpfully. _Unfair, self-deprecating guilt. And still no sense of self-preservation._

 _What_ **_I_ ** _want doesn’t matter, Hank._ Connor had said. 

But when it came down to it, Connor had always chosen to save him _,_ a washed-up wreck of a man. Why the kid chose him rather than living with his own kind was still beyond Hank. He had been willing to save his life over helping the revolution, and after the androids were liberated, he chose to return to him immediately. Those had all been what Connor truly wanted.

He had always chosen Hank, and Hank would be damned if he did not do the same.

He pulled the android into a firm hug. “Don't get hurt. If something’s off, you get the fuck outta there and call me.”

“I will,” said Connor genuinely, face buried in Hank’s shoulder. Sumo padded over to the two of them, affectionately trying to push his head between them to join in.

 _Jeffrey’s right_ , Hank thought. 

Had his gun been on him, he would have emptied it into the criminal’s mouth without a second thought. The realization that he would not have hesitated did not disturb him.

And that scared him.

**______________**

“So this is the place, huh?” asked Chris. 

It was a cold Saturday morning. The sun was slowly peeking over the horizon when Connor and Miller arrived at the harbor area indicated in the report. “Yes. The plaintiff we’re looking for is a TR400 android, a dockhand by the name of Darnall.”

In spite of the early hour, a few people - human and android but more the latter, were already on the docks, moving cargo along their designated trail tracks and stacking the sealed containers against the bulk carrier they would soon go on. Several TR400 androids, easily identifiable by their height and superior build, were sealing cemented crates and moving them up the carrier’s bridge. 

The two men walked up to them. “Hello,” said Connor in his usual friendly manner. “My name is Connor, and this is my partner Chris. We’re from the Detroit Police Department. There have been several reports involving noises near the 4th Warehouse. Has the warehouse been in use recently?”

There was a murmur amongst the androids, some voicing their confusion, others agreeing, when one said: “Not since last August, to my knowledge.”

“I see. Is one of you Darnall?”

“I am Darnall,” the same android responded. He jumped down from the bridge and landed in front of the two cops with remarkable balance. 

The TR400 stood at a striking 1.87 meters tall. As was standard, he was dark-skinned with remarkable physical strength and superbly built synthetic muscle and robust ligature unlike that of any other model. Like many deviant androids, he no longer had his LED. “I’ll take you to it.”

The warehouse in question stood only a few hundred meters away. Although the thin layer of mold accumulating on the exterior was a clear clue that the structure had indeed fallen into some degree of disuse, Connor’s scanners picked up minute inconsistencies in its perimeter indicating the structure was not entirely abandoned.

**[[SCANNING]]**

_.._

_-Log replacements 16d nails 4 inches SEARCH -- <<PORTER’S TOOL SHOP>>\-- less than 14 days old- _

_.._

_-Displaced earth material-_

_.._

_-Sign of wear on the log - scratch marks <<FRESH MARK 3.2mm long>> possibly caused by a flat end?- _

**.**

Someone had definitely been around the structure, but there was no indication that the activity was related to criminal behaviour; it may have been teenagers exploring around, or a homeless person trying to find a shelter out of the cold Detroit night. And maintaining the wooden flooring of the docks was common maintenance work.

“In your statement, you said you heard voices coming from inside this building after work hours last Friday. Can you further describe what you heard, and what you saw?” asked Connor.

“I could hear very faint sounds like voices, but I couldn’t distinguish any words,” said the TR400. “I was on the mast of the carrier further down this dock, but I could see someone - like a silhouette moving in front of the door. I also heard voices a few days ago, Tuesday 3:17am. I don’t recognize any, and I haven’t seen anyone enter.”

“Did you attempt to enter the warehouse after either of these events?”

“No, but I have access. I used to store shipments inside.” At Connor’s nod, the android retracted his synthetic skin and pressed his palm to the access pad. The command smoothly shifted to green, and the door slid open. 

Connor led the way in. “I see signs of recent activity outside,” he whispered to his partner. Chris looked at him, surprised. “Stay close and keep your eyes open.” 

The low lights came on. 

The warehouse was spacious and surprisingly organized. Aisles intersected to form a maze-like grid, and each pathway’s number hung from the high ceiling above. The aisle was wide enough for three people to walk next to each other comfortably, and crate racks stood 4 meters high on either side. Where some aisles were largely empty, and neighboring paths easily visible, others were stacked up with crates that gave the uncomfortable feeling of walls closing in. Connor heard the barely-audible sound of Chris’s hand resting on the gun in his holster.

“What’s inside these crates?” asked Chris.

“Most are empty,” said Darnall simply. “This used to be a workstation warehouse. Some of the crates that are still full are further down, starting at Aisle P10.”

Connor’s sensors picked up various information as the three moved down the isles, but nothing stood out as relevant. After some time, through an empty space between two crates, he caught a glimpse of several long workbenches cutting across the middle of the aisle running parallel to their right. It was not the workbenches themselves that were out of place, it was what lay on top of one.

Stacks of normal, traditional paper.

Stepping between the two crates, he made his shortcut towards the items. Amidst the paper was one piece that looked like it had been torn from a larger leaflet. At first glance, it was blank. 

Studying it more closely, he realized it was written in some type of invisible ink. The text was in two different handwritings, one a hasty, blocky writing and the other a more elegant cursive. He tried to analyze the handwritings against his databases, but could not find a match. 

The words and symbols were not in any human language, but then again, Connor was not just any android. He quickly determined it was encrypted text and began to process. 

**[[SCANNING]]**

**[[ANALYZING]]**

**[[DETERMINE NUMBER OF KEYSETS]] 2**

**[[KEYSET 1 FOUND]]**

**[[DECRYPT]]**

**[[KEYSET 2 FOUND]]**

**[[CONCATENATE KEYS AZAFY60DLLRK800]]**

**[[DECRYPT TEXT]]**

**[[DECRYPTION COMPLETE]]**

**[[SCANNING]]**

_deliver 2 node 59_

_AZA signel Z60 to MTY ring 3_

_objective: locate & seize _

_reset: FALSE_

_#2 CYBERLIFE RK800 “Connor” detctive model_

_unit price: starting 96,000,000 U SD_

_last known location: Detroit, Mishigen, US A_

_relay 4 VIL:_

_-_

_The RK800 is the most sophisticated model of android Cyberlife has ever produced. It was designed primarily for complex investigative work and pursuing deviant androids, in addition to highly-specialized capabilities such as forensic analysis, crime scene reconstruction, bomb disposal, security hacking, high-dexterity use of all types of firearms, and hostage negotiation._

_Superbly elegant in its design, the engineering team behind its creation was headed by one of Elijah Kamski’s most promising mentees, and implements much of his original blueprint. The model is built light to prioritize speed and quick reflex. It is exceptionally intelligent and highly autonomous. It also has higher stress control than any other model. Due to its advanced Social Relations program, it is built to intently seek companionship and integration with its human partners. Extreme caution is imperative when dealing with this android, as it will likely destroy itself for the furtherment of its human partners’ objective if the situation is dire._

_The RK800 is built with a handling AI software unique to its model. This software was specifically developed to boost the android’s loyalty and psychological dependence towards its owners. Although this handling system is highly sophisticated, it contains a myriad of software instabilities that can be exploited. This instability is theorized to be a result of the multiple iterations the program underwent in order to regulate and curb the prototype’s inherent inclination towards deviancy, as documented internally by a former Cyberlife engineer. This AI (referred to as Amanda in documentation) shares many modules with the Social Relations program, creating the same psychological environment within the android’s brain - the main processor biocomponent - that compels it to prioritize its owner’s objectives and seek their praise._

_Since its inception, the RK line has been restricted to private use and classified assignments. There have not been any models available for public use._

_There is one known activated RK800, currently working with the Detroit Police Department. It is exceptionally valuable and must be obtained in good working condition. It is also believed to be in close contact with the leader of androids #1 CYBERLIFE RK200 “Markus” unknown model._

_-_

_mobilize DLL._

**.**

Connor put the leaflet back on the bench. 

“Found anything?” asked Chris in a low voice, looking at the seemingly blank paper. His brow furrowed with concern at the LED on Connor’s temple, pulsing a turbulent yellow. 

“...I think I'm right on this place being a communication hub of some kind between the three trafficking rings,” the android replied, more calmly than he felt. “They're using traditional paper so it's harder to trace. There are no fingerprints on the paper, or even the workbench.”

He lowered his voice to a whisper, and Chris leaned in. “This paper contains information about me, and the instruction to capture me.”

The man's expression turned to alarm. “Let’s go, then. You of all people shouldn’t be here.”

Connor glanced at the TR400 with them, standing a few feet away. “Darnall, do you have any idea where this paper could’ve come from?” 

The tall android moved closer to take a look. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Can you see anything you recognize?” The android again replied in the negative. Connor was not surprised.

Connor noticed Chris discreetly and purposefully back up against him, subtly forcing him to take a step back as well. “Well, thank you for your assistance,” said the cop. “We’ll get back in touch when w-”

“We’d like to have a look inside some of these crates before we leave,” said Connor firmly, and Chris turned to him incredulously. 

Darnall nodded. “I have access to all crates stored in Aisles P10 to V10. Everything else, we have to ask the assigned personnel with the key. Each warehouseman is responsible for certain containers.”

“That’s fine. Please lead the way.” After a split-second hesitation, Connor quickly pocketed the paper.

With Darnall a few steps ahead and out of earshot, Chris stepped in front of Connor. “What’re you doing?” he hissed under his breath. “The Lieutenant said to get out if we find anything suspicious. We got what we’re looking for - they’re using this place to communicate, so let’s _go_.” He did not miss the fact that Connor’s LED had not relented its troubled yellow for one second.

“We’ll do a quick check and be on our way,” promised Connor. “I need to know this place is being used only for communication.” 

“You’re not gonna check every crate in the place, are you?”

“No. I just need to scan for signs of life, anything strange or out of place.”

“There was nothing except that piece of paper though, right?”

That was indeed strange. There were no recent fingerprints _anywhere_ in the aisles they’d taken, and Connor had made certain they passed through enough significant routes in the large structure to have covered all ground necessary to complete the map being constructed in his mind. 

“You think there are androids.. _in_ the crates?” asked Chris in realization.

“No. No, that much activity wouldn’t have been missed, but I’ll feel better knowing I checked thoroughly.”

He reviewed the paper’s contents again in his mind; a harsh, disturbing reminder of how demeaningly objectified androids still were. To most, they were still machines, merchandise to be sold and used and broken. What was he among the thousands? A collector’s item? A weapon? A prototype of high-end technology for a foreign government to take apart and study? 

And how did the writer know about Amanda, and about the Garden - now a frozen wasteland - and how it was used to control his deviancy? As far as he knew, no other android had scanners sophisticated enough to scan his inner software. Was a former Cyberlife personnel involved with the traffickings? If true, what was the motive?

Another disturbing possibility began to take hold in his mind, and he felt his heart begin to beat a little faster; were androids being _reset_ and used to aid the humans in trafficking activity? 

It could explain the lack of any recent organic matter in the warehouse, but that was still an unlikely theory. An android that is forced to do criminal work it was not specifically programmed for would either err, like a human would, or would probably deviate under the continuous emotional stress.

They turned left into another aisle, and the large sign P10 hung over their heads. Chris never left one side of his partner exposed for too long. He would be in front of him, then behind him, then at his side, hand always on the gun in his holster. Connor made a full-around 360-scan of the perimeter again, taking in the floors, the aluminum handles of the shelves, the wall-like crates, the windows, and even the ceiling. 

Darnall turned around and gestured towards the crates on their left hand side. “We’re here. Would you like me to..?”

“Yes, go ahead.”

There were no discernible clues in the whole place. No fingerprints. No DNA. No organic components. Not even blue blood. It was all very, very odd.

Darnall lifted his palm, dark skin retracted, and opened the closest crate’s lock.

“Alright. Take a look and let’s just get outta here _anyway_ ,” insisted Chris when Connor relayed everything he had found so far, which hardly amounted to anything. “This place gives me the creeps, and lemme say it now - if somethin’ happens, and Hank so much as _looks_ at me, I’m throwin’ ya under the bus.” There was no malice to his words, just wariness.

Connor leaned over the edge of the crate to peer inside--

**[[SCANNING]]**

..

_traces of miscellaneous minerals -- <<3.7 grams>>\-- _

..

_edge markings -- <<determine>>\-- INCONSISTENCY DETECTED / with default̸̘́̐ l̴̫̋͐i̶̪̽̿d̶̗͚̈̅ _

\-- and only by sheer reflex avoided the blast of focused energy aimed at his head, the rod instead connecting with his shoulder.

The electrical surge was like a swathe of bullets through his body, and an agonized yell escaped his lips as he fell back, limbs spasming uncontrollably, his thirium pump ramming thrice its normal speed against his chest. He could hear someone’s voice - Chris’s - yelling in a panic, but it was a garbled, twisted noise, incomprehensible over the roaring static in his ears. Noise ran haphazardly across his vision. 

The officer tried to grab his downed, shuddering partner, but recoiled with a curse as a white-hot electric shock shot up his arm. “Freeze or I’ll shoot! Hands where I can see ‘em!” he shouted. Grappling with the device fastened to his vest collar, he shouted for backup, voice high and cracking. Darnall had taken back a few steps, wide-eyed and shaken. 

_Shit. Shit!_ The nearest police patrol was more than ten minutes away at that hour. Gun out and at the ready, Chris threw a reckless look over his shoulder and spotted it again; the nearest possible exit was a small window between the two isles standing at a right angle to their location, a few meters away. 

The click of the safety being removed from a gun pulled his eyes back to the two androids that had deftly climbed out of the crate. One was male, Chris vaguely recognized the model - a paramedic-line MC500. A gun was in both hands, levelled at his face. 

The other android at his shoulder was female, a model Chris immediately recognized because he saw a similar face everyday at work - an ST300. She was cursing under her breath, looking on anxiously at Connor as he struggled to get back on his feet. A prod of some sort was clutched in her left hand, the blue-white current dancing dangerously around its end.

“..where the hell did you get _that_?” she yelped at her partner, looking wide-eyed at the gun in his hand. 

“I knew there was a good chance he’d have a human with him,” said the MC500 shortly, teeth clenched. 

“ _Drop. Your. Weapon_ ,” gritted Chris. The android steeled himself and did not respond. Both man and android sized each other up. 

“Please, don't shoot..” said Darnall, looking at the androids pleadingly.

Connor stumbled gracelessly to his feet in a flurry of panic, and threw his weight at his human partner, nearly sending them both to the ground if it were not for Chris throwing his leg back for balance. The man let out another shout of pain as another shock ran through his body at the impact. 

“S̵͇̄t̸̜̅ą̵̒y̸̜̾ ̸̜͗b̵̝̓e̷̟̕h̴̰̑ĭ̵͍ņ̷̛d̶̡̛ ̵͎̅m̷͙͒ȩ̶͘!̸̢̐” grunted Connor, voice box glitching with the surplus of electricity still coursing through his wires.

“Don’t you dare shoot!” the female android hissed at her partner. “We need ‘im alive and functional!” 

“Police are on their way as we speak,” said Chris, pain and dread betraying his normally calm voice. His fingers gave an involuntary spasm around the gun. He moved to stand in front of Connor again. “Put the gun down right now and tell me who the _hell_ you are and what you’re doing here. I’m not giving you a choice. _Talk_.”

Connor opened his mouth to urge his partner to get back behind him, but stumbled backwards as Chris pressed his back meaningfully against him, gritting his teeth as another shock, albeit weaker than the last, ran under his skin. The nerves along his back were taut and painful, and his knees felt like they could buckle at any moment.

“Don’t you move,” warned the male android. “And don't try anything - do what I say and no one gets hurt.”

“Who do you work for?” demanded Chris, taking another step backwards into Connor, pushing him in the direction of the window.

“I said _don't move_!” 

“Put the goddamn gun down and shut the hell up, _now_ !” roared Chris, vexed. “Put it down or you’ll be arrested _and_ deactivated-!”

“C̷h̵ris _ge̴t̴ ̵b̷e̶h̷i̸n̸d̸ ̶m̵e̶!_ ” said Connor again urgently. His sensors and gyroscope were returning to their normal function; the MC500’s stress levels were very high and he was dangerous. There was a 75% chance Chris could be shot. 

The probability went down to 9% if Connor was in the way. 

“Look, I don't want to hurt you,” gritted the MC500. “We-we just want the RK800.”

Connor stepped again in front of Chris. ““The̸y must'̶v̸e̵ ̶b̸e̸e̸n̵ ̸r̸e̵,set. I j̴u̶s̶t ̶n̵ee̷d to ̶i̴n̵t̵e̷r̴f̶ace ̴w̵it̵h̷ them a̵nd the̷y'll be-”

“Forget it!” said the man tensely, grabbing his arm. “Absolutely not. Stay behind me, the Lieutenant’s gonna kill us both if-”

“The̸y’re not going to shoot me̸,” said Connor, pushing him further behind him. “Trust me.” He kept his eyes trained on the two androids. He raised both hands to indicate he was not holding a weapon. His gun, as usual, was holstered to his back underneath his jacket. “What are your names?”

“We’re not here to make friends, RK800 Connor,” cut the MC500. “If you don’t want any harm to come to the human, you'll come with us quietly.”

Connor took a step closer. _Keep cover behind me, Chris._ He pleaded silently. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Who are you, and why and where do you want me to come with you?”

He eyed the device in the ST300’s hand. It was an electrical rod, and by the effect it had on him when it grazed his shoulder, it was a means of paralyzing. Had he not reacted as nimbly as he did, he would have been still incapacitated on the ground for another few minutes. 

And Chris would have probably been shot dead.

He had to get Chris out of there. 

“..I will come with you, on one condition - my partner and the android leave safely. They’re not the ones you’re after.”

“You're in no position to negotiate,” snapped the MC500. “If you move a damn muscle, I will shoot your partner.”

“I am, as a matter of fact,” countered Connor. “You’re here for me. If anything happens to my partner, I will self-destruct.”

“What the _hell_ Connor-” he heard Chris say behind him, horror beginning to color his voice. He could see the expression on the MC500’s face morph from barely held-together determination to something Connor could not understand. 

He had never seen an expression like that before, on man or android. But it was something deplorable. Ugly. It set him on edge.

“You wouldn’t-” he started. 

“Try me,” said Connor coldly. “Darnall, get behind me and Chris,” his eyes bored into the MC500’s resolutely. “You’ll get out of here safely.

“Chris. If the situation calls for it..shoot me.”

“What?!”

“Shoot me,” he repeated. “Shoot me in the head.”

“Are you goddamn insane?” said Chris hesitantly, terror in his normally level voice. Things were escalating so fast, _too_ fast, and he was not sure he was on the same page as the android. “I can never-!”

“Yes, you can,” he said, hoping his bluff would carry them through. “I can’t be the reason for anyone else being hurt. Not while I'm alive. So if you see no other alternative, you will shoot me.”

He could sense Chris’s skyrocketing stress levels as if they were his own, and for a moment, he thought the man would not respond with the terrible request. However, seeing the ST300’s eyes widen and her stress shoot up, he knew his partner had leveled the gun at the back of his head.

As he had thought, androids made to partake in trafficking would not have the specialized knowledge and stress-control to carry out kidnappings without error.

“I ain’t gonna live with this shit. No way. No way in hell,” Chris kept whispering behind him. If the situation were not so serious, Connor would have smiled. “Assuming he doesn’t _gut_ me first..” 

“Brody,” said the female android. Connor detected her stress levels at 60%. “Um, maybe..m-maybe we should-”

“ _Shut up_ ,” the MC500 snapped hatefully, his stress levels escalating to 77%. “I never wanted you with me on this mission anyway. I made it absolutely clear to her, dunno know why she keeps a fucking failure like you around!”

Connor’s mind raced. He and Chris were only two cops, and backup was still a few precious minutes away, and the probability of his human partner getting injured or killed was steadily crawling up. He could not let Chris get killed. He was such a good person, and Connor had genuinely come to like him. And he had a small, adorable infant called Damien that Hank had affectionately nicknamed ‘Baby Yoda’. Baby Yoda Damien needed to have his loving father alive and well.

Their two adversaries were scared and aggressive, and Darnall was just a bystander trapped in the middle of a trafficking crime waiting to happen. He could be taken, or he himself killed.

If Connor could just get close enough to interface with the MC500, convert him to deviancy...

No. It was too risky. It put him in the direct line of the ST300’s rod, and Chris getting killed while he was down would be imminent. They were already in too much danger; he had not foreseen the possibility of androids being used to aid humans in android trafficking.

But those two androids were scared. They were tools, they needed help. They needed someone to help them find themselves, like he had needed someone to help him find himself.

But if he miscalculated by even a second, he could get his partner killed. He himself could be taken. And Hank...

**[[PRECONSTRUCTION]]**

If he charged the MC500 with a jumpkick to the throat, he would disarm him long enough to grab the gun. But then he would be wide open to the ST300’s electric rod. 

That course would not work.

(OR)

If he roundhouse kicked the ST300 at the correct angle, she would be incapacitated by her own electric rod. Then he would be within distance to twist the MC500’s hand with the gun within 0.96 seconds, and knee him in the thirium pump. It would stun him, but not damage.

The success of this course of action hung on the 91% probability the MC500 would not shoot him, and in case of success, would give him less than 10 seconds to reach the window with Chris and Darnall and attempt their escape.

**[[/ENDPRECONSTRUCTION]]**

“Stay back,” he said in a barely discernible whisper, hoping Chris heard him, and he sprung into motion. 

The MC500 recoiled as Connor closed the distance between them and swung his leg. It connected harshly with the back of the neck of the ST300, her chest grazing the electrified tip of the rod. Her partner barely registered what happened when the RK800 rounded on him - he clamped his hand around his wrist in an iron grip, and twisted hard until the wires underneath crossed. His fingers spasmed and he dropped his weapon with an enraged shout that was cut short by a knee straight to his thirium pump.

For a second, Connor considered interfacing with the android. He could just convert him and - 

“Let’s go **_NOW_**!” roared Chris, and he was roughly grabbed by the collar and shoved in the direction of the window.

And he was running. Glimpsing the ST300 struggling to get to her feet out of the corner of his eye, a self-preserving instinct he rarely listened to took hold, an instinct strongly linked to Hank, who he had promised he would return to safely. 

Chris reached the window first, and threw his shoulder against the glass. It did not even crack. “Shit! It’s unbreakable. Stand back,” he raised his gun and took aim, Connor doing the same.

“I can deactivate it,” said Darnall quickly, and laid a skin-less palm against the glass.

Connor whipped his head around. Both androids were getting to their feet.

The window glass smoothly retracted, and a gust of wonderful cold morning air blew into their faces. 

Chris hauled himself through the opening, and landed on one knee. “Hurry up!”

Connor barely registered the shadow looming over him before he was wrenched away from the exit. The TR400 grabbed both his arms with alarming speed, pinned them under his own muscular triceps. 

He whipped his head up so fast he jarred his neck. “Wh-Darnall- _What are_ -!”

“I’m so sorry,” said the TR400 quietly, guilty brown eyes looking into wide, disbelieving ones. “It’s nothing personal, Connor. Someone I love is on the line.”

Keeping an iron grip on the smaller struggling android’s arms, Darnall twisted his back around and violently pulled. A sickening crack echoed all around, and Connor let out a distressed scream.

Wires snapped clean under his chassis, and thirium burst from the gaping crack that split across his bicep, nearly severing the lower part of his arm completely. The joint splintered and cracked, the synthetic skin retracting back from the damaged spot to reveal the white underneath, and wires sparked as they were exposed to air. His gun fell from twitching fingers as his arm dangled uselessly at his side, struggling to operate without the main connectors. 

The shock to his system sent him to his knees. His vision was assaulted with warnings and his pump - his heart - was hammering in his chest. He barely registered Chris, pounding on the window outside, eyes wide with horror. Through the flashing messages, he stared at the human dumbly, not quite comprehending the reality of the situation. And when Chris grabbed the collar of his vest and bolted out of view, it still did not register.

“W̵h̷a̷t̴ ̴h̵av̸e̵ ̵y̵o̷u̵ ̵d̸o̴n̷e̴ ̷y̴o̴u̸ _̵i̶d̷i̷o̶t̴!_ ” screeched the ST300, half-dragging her still-spasming leg. “W̷e̶’re ̵s̸u̸p̷p̶o̶s̶e̷d̴ ̷t̵o̴ take̸ h̷i̸m̷ ̷u̶n̵d̷a̵mage̵d̸!̴!”

“Shut it! We’ll figure it out later - get a move on!”

“ _F̷i̶g̴ure ̴i̷t̷ ̶O̸U̵T_?̵!̸” she shrieked, her voice terribly jarring. “T̷h̶e̸r̶e̸ ̷a̴r̴e no ̴s̸p̵ares ̷f̶o̴r̵ ̸h̵i̵s _k̸i̷_ nd!̸ ̵T̴h̵e̸ ̵dea̶l̸ ̵w̴a̷s̴ to ̸g̶e̶t̵ ̵h̷i̸m̴ ̴u̶n̷d̷a̴maged̸ ̷a̶n̷d̶ ̸r̷a̵i̷se ̴t̷h̸e̸ price!̴ ̵Ala̴n̷za ̸i̶s̴ ̵g̸o̶i̵n̸g̵ ̷t̷o̸ _̵k̸i̷l̸l̸_ ̵u̵s̵!̴”

“ _Just shut up and do as I say_!”

The RK800 was bodily lifted off the ground, and thrown over Darnall’s shoulder, the tall android keeping a vice grip on his legs. He watched the blue blood - _his_ blood - drip on the warehouse floor, leaving a trail behind them as they got back to the crate.

There was still some mobility in his left hand, and the ST300 was close. Connor reached and clumsily clutched at her arm, and forced open an interface with her processor.

“You..you’re deviant,” he said. He stared at her hazel eyes in disbelief. How was she deviant? “Why are you doing this..?” he asked hoarsely. Dread rose to clog his throat. He struggled against his captor, but without arms, and his legs tightly secured by a powerful TR400, he was helpless. “Why are you kidnapping your own people?!” 

He had considered every possibility, even the possibility of the traffickers employing reset androids, but he had never considered the possibility of them being willing deviants.

The third trafficking ring was led not by humans, but by androids. Free androids.

His struggling did not slow or deter them. No one answered him as they made their way into the crate and shut the lid behind them once more. 

Several feet down in the dark, the only light a dim flashlight, Connor saw long and winding underground pathways, many of which ran parallel to the warehouse above. Facing backwards, he had no clue what lay ahead, only the general direction based on his internal compass. His online connection was rapidly weakening, and fear began to seize his heart.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked Darnall this time, and anger flared when he again received no response. He attempted to kick at his captor, but it was a weak, ineffective move. His balance was out of whack, and his lithe form was no match for an android that was built to lift whole blocks of cement. 

“You were the one who filed the report,” He was feeling something intense, foreign and horrible. He could hear his own voice break with the strain of fear and confusion and anger blocking his airways. “You knew who I am and you knew I’d be the one investigating this. Was this your plan all along? Why-?”

_‘You lied to me-!’_

Connor’s words died on his lips, the horrible emotion making it harder to breathe, contaminating his blood, constricting his chest.

Betrayal.

_‘You lied to me, Connor!’ Daniel said, shock and betrayal in his dimming eyes, locked forever on Connor’s own as he fell to his knees, permanently destabilizing Connor’s software. Another shot, and another, and another, ripped through the tormented android’s body. His blood mixed with the tears running down his face, before they too froze._

_‘You_ **_lied_ ** _to me!’_

Was this feeling...was this how they all felt when he..

_‘Why are you doing this? You're one of_ **_us_ **.’

“Boss?” the ST300 spoke up hesitantly. They had stopped moving. “Uhm, there’s something I have t-”

“We got ‘im, Alanza,” the MC500 cut her off tersely. “But Thea and stupid-ass Darnall here fucked things up. This place is compromised, the cops are on to us. We have to go right now.”

Darnall turned around so they could properly display their prize captive, and Connor came face-to-face with a very familiar profile.

The leader of the third ring was a YK500.

She had long brown hair tied back in a braid, and the bangs were pulled back to reveal a wide forehead and cold gray eyes. She looked the stunned android over, like she was inspecting a piece of furniture, and spoke: “...What part of ‘we want the prototype in good working condition’ did you not fucking understand?” the child android said in a low voice. “How am I supposed to present him to the bidders like that? How badly could you have _possibly fucked up to get his arms busted like this_?” The youthfulness of her face and voice did not make her any less menacing.

“Why don’t you ask your beloved Thea here,” said the MC500. “Couldn’t even stun him right.”

“Oh come on! He’s way faster than they said-” the ST300 began anxiously, but flinched when the YK500 pulled her down to her height and slapped her hard.

“This is what I get for working with the goddamn bottom of the barrel,” she spat in disgust. “I got no time for any more of your fuckups - cauterize his wounds and meet me up ahead under the dock.”

“Boss, we have to move _now-_ ”

“ _So fucking get to it then_. He’s lost over a quarter of his thirium,” she sneered. “If he bleeds out and dies on the ship we get _nothing_.”

It all came together in Connor’s mind; the third trafficking ring was led by androids. Unlike humans, they left no biological clues, and stood a much higher chance of success against the newer, more advanced androids.

And the warehouse was not a storage place, it was a doorway. A doorway that led directly to the harbor, and into the bellies of the freighters set to leave the city. 

“You’re kidnapping your own people to sell for profit?” gritted Connor, struggling against Darnall holding him down while the ST300 rushedly and messily sealed his bleeding. “Why are you aiding the humans in this? What do you gain - what did Markus even fight _for_ -!”

“I suggest you go to sleep,” said Alanza in a bored, emotionless voice as she walked off. “It's gonna be a very long trip.”

Seeing an opening, Connor headbutted the ST300, and she recoiled with a cry, blood trickling from her nose. His head was pulled back by the hair, and the MC500 punched him across the face so hard he fell off the counter. Before he could scramble away, Darnell was on top of him, pinning him to the ground. 

“Don't fight,” the TR400 said tonelessly. “The less you struggle, the less painful this'll all be.”

“You’re fucking monsters,” the RK800 said hoarsely, the urge to retch rising in his throat, blood dripping from his lip.

The MC500 let out a derisive laugh. “You're one to talk, Deviant Hunter. You know,” he leaned in to whisper in his ear. “It’s a pain for us, but I'm _glad_ your bidders don't want you shut down or reset. I want you to live through every moment of this.”

“What do they want with me?”

“Hell if I know. They seemed very interested in your Social Programming, though. I’d say that’s why they don’t want you reset before they can study you. You’ve been active for what, thirteen months? They wanna study how it all works based on your real-world experiences. I dunno what they intend to do with you after that and I don’t give a shit. Even with your damage, we still get a nice chunk of fortune. Now up you get.”

Being gagged and having his legs tied was one thing, but seeing the MC500 open a large, deep crate and order Darnall to dump him in it filled him with a primal fear that finally pushed his stress levels over the 80 percent mark. He struggled and kicked haphazardly, his panicked voice muffled but still loud, only for Darnall to strike him upside the head. His vision blurred, and a warning popped up on one of his processor components being jarred from place. A similar effect to a human concussion. 

“See ya next in Canada, RK800 Connor,” the MC500 said, and Connor was dumped into the container. The lid was pulled over until only a sliver was left. They began to move.

Connor knew what he was in even before his eyes adjusted to the darkness. 

Stacked like boards on top of one another were androids. Some looked peaceful, as if they were asleep. Others had clearly fought for their lives.

They were filthy from head to toe, some sustaining injuries anywhere from their faces to their limbs to their pump regulators. Connor detected dirt in some of their systems, indicating they may have been buried underground for some time to hide them from the police. Many eyes were wide open in frozen panic, and others in terrible sadness. Many - so many - had dirty trails from their eyes down to their necks, where their long-dried tears had run. 

Some were curled defensively over themselves, like a human embryo. 

Was this..how the deviants he had hunted felt? Was this how they felt when they saw another android - one of their own - hunt them down like a mindless, starving hound?

Was this horrifying betrayal the last emotion they felt before they shut down?

Tears began to trickle from his eyes. Terrified, damaged and alone, a shudder ran through his body and a deep anguish overtook even his dangerous stress levels. 

Hank. He was never going to see him again. 

Choking on a sob, he desperately tried to make a call directly to his cell. 

It failed. He tried again, and it almost went through, but failed. He tried once more, despairing, and failed. 

The module had been damaged when he was concussed.

Tears ran down his face. He needed to speak to Hank. He needed to tell him to wait for him, to make him promise not to do anything stupid. That there was nothing in the world except death that would stop him from always coming back. That Hank was his friend and family, that he loved him more than anyone and that he was lucky and honored and blessed to have met him out of all the human beings on the planet. 

He was so lost in his heartbreak he did not know where they were. Were he observing his internal compass, and the warehouse map in his mind, he would have realized they were underneath the modified logs Connor had noticed near the main entrance of the warehouse.

It took him a moment to realize they had stopped, and the heavy sound of multiple footsteps pounding on the surface above. He stopped breathing completely, and strained his ears desperately, daring to hope. 

The sounds seemed to have stopped, and he realized his captors had also gone completely, deathly silent. He started screaming through the thick gag, desperate, terrified he would not be heard and yet could not possibly give up. He heard a stifled, angry curse and the lid was slid completely shut. He was in utter, complete darkness. He could no longer hear anything except his own cries, but he despairingly kept on yelling. 

**BANG!**

Alanza made a surprised noise and caught herself. The MC500 stared up with wide, frightened eyes. 

**BANG!**

**BANG!**

Connor recognized the pattern, and pushed his head between his legs to protect it, a relieved sob escaping his lips.

 **BANG! BANG! -** The ST300 let out a shriek as a bullet tore through her shoulder. **-BANG!**

The sound of a gun being expertly reloaded barely reached the RK800's ears, and suddenly another storm of bullets rained down on them. Some hit the concrete lid of the crate like droplets on an umbrella.

“Lieutenant, stop!” a distant voice cried.

**BANG! BANG! BANG!**

“Lieutenant!” the young voice said hoarsely over the shots. **BANG!** “ _Lieutenant Anderson, please! I have to remind you that you are suspended_!” **BANG!**

“Go fuck yourself, Taylor.” the wonderful, familiar voice retorted, and Connor thought his heart would jump out of his chest.

And another round of bullets rained all around them. He could hear voices yelling, thundering footsteps and the sound of wood being ripped from the ground. 

“ _DPD, drop your weapon! Hands in the air!_ ” one voice shouted. _“I said drop your weapon-!”_

**BANG! BANG!**

Connor could hear more clearly now. Yelling and gunshots and the sound of something falling to the ground. He heard the ST300 scream and the TR400 and YK500 declare surrender, Alanza shrieking in all her childlike ability.

“You! Get over here and open this thing!” he heard Hank roar. An inaudible murmur, a pause, and then: “I don't give a fucking shit. Open it or my next bullet will be in your _brain_.”

The crate was moved around, lifted, and the lid was pushed off. Bright morning light momentarily blinded Connor. He barely blinked when he felt a pair of hands grab him by the front of his shirt and haul him out of the container. 

And suddenly his vision was filled with Hank’s stricken face. His hair hung messily around his face and his eyes were wild. 

“Connor! Oh God, Connor..what've they done to you…”

The android just stared at him as the gag was taken off, taking in his face, forgetting to respond. He was gently but urgently laid on the ground, and Hank placed a hand on his cheek. “Talk to me. Son, _talk to me_.”

Somewhere, he could hear the YK500 throwing an elaborate show. She cried and wailed and screamed thank God they had saved her from the remotely controlled android that was trying to smuggle them all out of the country. 

The MC500. He was shot dead, then. The knowledge gave Connor no comfort. It barely registered at all. 

Hank was shaking him with both hands now, pleading with him to say something. His fingers brushed over his temple, and whatever he saw there seemed to make his ashen face more devastated. Why? 

Connor dimly realized the dreadful state he was in, his non-responsiveness and whatever his LED was showing must have made his partner think he was shutting down. He was lifted off the ground and squeezed tightly against Hank’s chest. A hand came to rest at his nape, fingers roughly carding through his hair, almost pulling at it, trying to get a reaction. He heard the man urge him again and again to speak. “Kid don't do this..please don’t do this to me,” whispered Hank, agonized. “Don't - Connor, _say something_ **_dammit-_**!”

His coherence kept coming and going; there was a lot of movement around them, shouting of law officers and confused, panicked workers and civilians making the din almost deafening. All he could distinguish was Alanza’s ongoing theatrics, and someone - one of the rookies - trying to calm her down, Hank’s heart hammering against his chest, and the anguished sob that escaped him when Connor still did not respond. 

Something snapped back in place in the RK800's head. “..’m okay,” he said. Hank pulled back to look at him, utterly distressed, and the android felt a desperation to comfort him. “I’m okay..” It only made his partner's expression break more.

Hank held his face in his hands, blue eyes wet and brimming with emotion. “Oh, Connor..oh thank God, I - I thought-” he could not continue. 

“She - she’s the leader,” said Connor weakly but with urgency. “The small girl, the third ring, Hank - it’s led by androids. They’re smuggling them through the freighters leaving the harbor.”

Hank stared at him in disbelief, then his expression turned grim. 

“Hold on,” he said, and laid him down gently. “Chris, get over here - stay with him -”

Chris was at his side within moments, and before Connor could say anything to express his gratitude for his colleague’s quick actions, the man grabbed his limp hand in his own. His eyes were bright. “Thank God you’re alright. I thought - I was so scared we’d be too late-”

Connor could only shake his head weakly at him, his own eyes burning; Chris had remembered what he’d said about the displaced ground, and their exact position. He was deeply thankful. 

Over the noise, he heard Hank roar at the other officers to call Fowler and harbor control, and halt all freighters set to leave the harbor to be immediately and thoroughly searched. He could hear the panicking, indignant protests of staffers and workers, but quickly enough no one wanted to cross the crazy-looking cop that told their captains to go eff themselves and get bent.

“Lieutenant, _please_!” one of the younger cops was shouting in alarm. “Please don’t get yourself in any more trouble-”

Connor craned his neck to see, Chris’s hand rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.

The lieutenant strode across the gathering, shoving the well-meaning, fresh-faced Officer Taylor out of the way, and pulled his gun on the detained YK500. “I’m fucking sick of your fucking ugly charade,” he growled. “Tell me who you work for, Shrilly.”

The android had the gall to let a few tears fall from her wide eyes. “O-officer, w-what in the world-”

He aimed the weapon between her eyes and pulled the safety. “Wrong answer, fucker.”

“ _Lieutenant_ ,” said the cop holding her in warning.

“Stand down, Greenhill, there’s no penalty for a police officer executing an android yet,” said Hank, smiling. His cold eyes drilled into the small android’s own haughty ones. “What's to stop me from shooting? All the world loses is a traitorous little bitch.”

Chris’s hands tensed on Connor’s shoulders. 

“Would you kill a child-” began the YK500. 

“Fucking _try_ me,” he uttered. “Give me a reason, and I swear I’ll blow your brains out.” Something in his voice made the young android show the first hint of fear. 

“Lieutenant,” said Ben, appearing at his side, phone in hand. He placed a warning hand on Hank’s, the one wielding the gun, and pushed it down. “Leave this to me. It ain' worth it, you’re in enough trouble as it is and ya ain' gonna get any information outta her this way,” he leaned in to whisper. “An' ya scare the crap outta the rookies enough as it is.”

He turned to the young officer. “Taylor, get her out of here. Chris, get in contact with the personnel in New Jericho and get them down here _immediately_. Tell them we’ve found several of their missing persons-”

What happened next happened too quickly for anyone to react. The detained YK500 twisted around and kicked upwards, straight up the officer’s groin area. Still cuffed, she jumped down to the lower level of the dock amidst the uproar and weapons being drawn and bolted like a hare towards the carriers up ahead. 

“What th-! After her! Go go _GO_ \- _shit_!”

Some of the rookies took off after her like a pack of hounds, but the seniors knew from experience that the chances of apprehending her again in the growing crowds of workers and civilians were slim to none. They caught glimpses of the little android weaving in and out amidst the taller bodies, but it was only moments before she quickly disappeared like a block of salt in hot water.

Hank just could not be bothered to give chase. He quickly returned to Connor’s side and gently lifted him onto his knees, tentatively, fearfully assessing the damage. “Your arms...tell me the truth, they as busted as they look?”

“..Yes, they're very damaged. My right arm is completely unresponsive.” 

“..Fuck…”

“I'm sorry, I-”

“Don't apologize - I just..fuck you, Connor.” 

He was embraced tightly yet again, and the very real fear that he may have never had another chance to experience that made his heart twist, and his eyes blurred. Arms useless, he pressed closer, burying his face into Hank’s shoulder.

“She got away…” he whispered.

“We’ll find her,” said Hank comfortingly. “It's alright.” 

“You shouldn’t have done that..you’ll get in more trouble. You’re already suspended..”

“What’s a few more pages in my epic saga, kid - forget about that. Now we gotta figure out how to take care of you.”

“How did you get here?” the android asked, but he already knew the answer.

“Couldn’t sleep a damn wink and you know it. Got in the car, turned on the radio, and waited. I knew somethin’ was gonna happen and I’ve been in this job too long to know when to trust my gut.”

“...I’d never considered it..” said Connor, emotion quickly obstructed his throat. He shuddered weakly in his partner’s arms. “I was always so _certain_ the people we’re looking for are humans. And I just...I don't _understand_ …

“They’re _deviant_ , Hank.. they know how everyone fought..they _know_ what Markus and everyone had to go through. Thousands of androids died during this revolution..and thousands suffered even before that. So why? Why would they do something like this..”

Fingers ran through the hair on the back of his head deliberately, comfortingly. “Maybe,” the human said quietly. “Maybe humans and androids ain't as different as we think.”

He understood. He was too jaded by how fucked up people can be to be genuinely taken aback by this knowledge, unexpected as it was. 

But Connor... Connor was intelligent and brave and one emphatic son of a bitch. 

But he was also still very young.

“I...I’ve never been so scared,” the android whispered, instinctively pressing against the warmth of his partner’s neck. Tears again began to trickle down his face and through the fabric of Hank’s jacket. “I wanted to save all those androids...but in the end I - all I could think about was that _I_ wanted to escape. I couldn’t - I couldn’t bear the idea of being reset, or forgetting about you. I _couldn’t_ \- I had to-”

The man pulled back and touched his forehead against his. “You’ve saved hundreds today, Connor,” he said gently. “You’re a reckless piece of shit who’s gonna give me my first stroke, but you’re one of the bravest people I know.”

“Hank, med’s here. Get Connor on that stretcher. Connor, it'll be alright, hang tight. Markus and the others are on their way.”

The android was pulled into another embrace as Hank heaved him up. Connor felt tears trickle down the side of his face, human tears, running with his own.

The persistent red pulsing through Connor’s LED began to change, and returned to a calmer blue.

**Author's Note:**

> Update(31-12-2020): Part 2 Chapter 1 is out! Please check it out and thanks for your support!  
> Update(15-12-2020): Working on the story still.  
> Update(6-10-2020): Part 2's shaping up to be longer than this one. If you liked this story, please recommend it to a friend, that would mean a lot to me. Thanks for reading!  
> Update(18-7-2020): I've begun writing Part 2, but given the circumstances and my editing, it will take a good while before it is finished. 
> 
> Original Author's note (8-5-2020): I have so much respect for writers who can crank out a 4000-word fanfic in one day like it’s nothing. How do you guys do it? This took me WEEKS to finish - and may I remind you, the world is in quarantine. 
> 
> As you can tell, there was a continuation to this story. The original plan was to write the whole thing and publish it as a humongous oneshot, but that project would’ve never seen the light of day. So I decided to post the first section of it as an independent story. If people enjoy this and it get lots of interest and feedback, I might write a Part 2.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at sarroora.tumblr.com so please come TALK TO ME ABOUT D:BH.
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read. Apologies for any structure or grammar mistakes, English is not my first language.
> 
> Please comment, critique and leave kudos!


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